


My Protector

by NoirxAnge



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Family, Gore, Insanity, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirxAnge/pseuds/NoirxAnge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was just a mere child at the age of eight. He looked after a stray dog he named Fenrir. It wasn't until one day that he got to keep him... (updates are sporadic, depending on my muse!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sobs echoed through the house, the source coming from a tiny cupboard under the stairs. Lightning flashed outside the windows, illuminating the house with white flashes. Wide teary green eyes opened a sliver, ears perking up to listen to any noise. All that reached the ears were body-wrecking snores. The weeping sounds immediately came to a halt and the eight-year old child slowly took a thin hairpin out from his pocket and picked at the lock on his door. The lock came open easily. It was sad to know that such a trick came at the expense of being too hungry, too desperate for years.

The door came open and his head came out first, to see if there was really no one out in the first floor. Once, he didn't take care, and got beaten up by his Uncle for coming out of the cupboard.

The coast was clear this time. Little Harry toed his way into the kitchen, and stood on his tippy toes trying to reach the kitchen drawer. He grabbed the hidden food precariously, rushing his way into the living room. He gently opened the closet, and grabbed his flimsy cloak, and rushed out the door.

Light quick footsteps could be heard filling the silence of the cold winter night. Harry ran with all his might, through the road filled with houses, across the empty playground and through an alley. Panting heavily, he finally reached his destination, at the dead-end of the alley.

There was a filthy silver larger-than-normal dog sleeping among the garbage bins. Its face was covered with deep scars, one of its paws even lost a digit or two. Upon hearing Harry' footsteps, it lazily opened a sky blue eye and wagged its tail slowly and happily.

Harry giggled cheerfully, kneeling beside the canine, unveiling the food he brought on his lap. "Here, Fenrir. Have it!" He whispered," I sneaked it out for you. "

The dog seemed to understand, as it shook its fur and walked slowly to Harry, ducking its head to sniff at the food. After deeming it good enough to eat, it nudged Harry then at the food, seemingly wanting Harry to eat as well. He shook his head. "Nah, you can have them. I don't need it," he smiled. However, he blushed as his stomach betrayed him, growling loudly.

Fenrir seemed to give him a told-you-so face, making Harry laugh sheepishly. "Fine, fine. But just a bit!" He dug in, eating along with his fellow outcast, laughing at the actions of his silly dog. Well, of course it wasn't actually _his_ , he would never have the money to afford one. However, he could still dream couldn't he?

Harry never knew it was the last time he would see the canine for a few weeks when he bade farewell.

The next few weeks, the dog waited and waited. Even when it was raining, it waited in the alley. Once it even went out to the playground but came back empty-handed and drenched. It ended up sneezing the next few days.

 

* * *

Fenrir became worried. His boy couldn't have forgotten about him right? But as days went by, his hope deflated like a balloon. There was just no way Harry was coming back again. A small worry niggled at the back of his mind: what if he was being hurt by his family again?

The worry grew and grew, until the large canine decided to just face his fears and go visit Harry himself. However, as he set off, Harry was there! He didn't seem good though, his face seemed like the only thing that was free of bruises. Any other exposed skin was blue-black. He still had a smile on his face, but clearly it was forced. A whimper escaped from the dog's throat but Harry didn't notice.

"Sorry fella, I couldn't get out of the house. " he smiled apologetically. "It's been months since I last saw you. Sorry there. I couldn't sneak any food out either. "

The dog just whimpered in fear for Harry, because he definitely was not looking well, with his pale lips and horribly bent fingers. _Fingers just weren't meant to bend that way!_ Most likely than not, his arms and or legs had fractures. What had happened to cause him such severe injuries?

Fenrir tilted his head with an inquisitive noise coming from him, clearly wanting an explanation from Harry. Harry tried to dismiss it. "Oh, I'm just fine really. Nothing serious," he laughed awkwardly. The canine didn't take it though, and growled lowly. "Well," he started apprehensively, " apparently Uncle Vernon was waiting me at home that day. "

Even without further explanation, Fenrir understood the silent implications- _Uncle Vernon then beat me into a pulp_. He went into an aggressive position, his upper body closer to the ground and his hackles raised. He growled menacingly.

Harry sighed, knowing that Fenrir just had to have that kind of reaction. But it was a good thing wasn't it? He finally had a friend that would worry about him.

The sky lightened a few tones, dawn was arriving. Harry quickly cleaned up and said," sorry boy, I have to go. If not..." He rushed off, leaving Fenrir sitting at the alley, staring at Harry's back.

A few days later, Harry was nowhere to be seen, as was expected. Fenrir had just have enough of this! He was not going to see Harry die bit by bit under his care. He stood up, shook his fur clean, and trodded off, following Harry's scent to where he lived.

The Dursleys were definitely paying for this.

 

* * *

Harry was finally getting some sleep after a harsh beating and still having to prepare dinner for his relatives. In his cupboard, he slowly closed his eyes and wondered. _What would it be like in a world without the Dursleys?_

In his sleep he thought he heard some screaming but... Nah. It _couldn't_ be. He thought he heard some deep familiar growls but... It must have been Fenrir saving him in his dream. Harry smiled.

When he woke up, it was late in the afternoon. He could see a bright light from a small gap in his cupboard. Harry stood up suddenly, just missing from head butting the ceiling of his room. He rushed out of the cupboard after dressing, anxiously saying, "I'm sorry! I didn't hear you call me... up..." He trailed off as he witnessed the gory sight in front of him. He **_screamed_**.

The Duesleys laid dead in the living room, in various stages of being pulled apart. Uncle Vernon -or what was left of him- was hardly recognizable. His whole body was bloody, intestines clearly in sight, and apparently half-eaten. His bones stuck out from his ribs, and there behold, his heart was still beating slightly at where his stomach should've been. His face was contoured in pain and horror, mouth agape. Aunt Petunia was not as bad, but still a horrific sight. Her jugular was broken, her head practically hanging by a thread made of muscle and fat. Her jaw was displaced. Her body was on the love seat, but a jaw-like bloody object could be seen in her son's open gaping stomach. Cousin Dudley got off the lightest, only his stomach open and bloody, his liver and bladder out at his sides.

Harry felt like vomiting. Who would do such a thing? Fast heavy knocks sounded at the door, but Harry didn't dare to move across the room to open the door. He could only shout across and watch as the police came and brought him away. He felt horribly numb about everything. Everything was settled by the police who cleared up the scene. Harry was given a chance to be adopted by better families. In the orphanage he was moved to, he was outcasted again but that was fine because Fenrir was with him! Fenrir had been waiting outside the door that day, and Harry immediately collapsed in his fur, hiding his face.

Fenrir now followed him everywhere, even when he went to the orphanage. He protected him from anyone he thought was a threat. He even bit a police officer on the arm, nearly succeeding in removing his hand from his wrist. Everyone thought Fenrir a demon but Harry just thought Fenrir's behavior endearing.

He thought he would never have to see or hear about killings near him again but it happened again. The bully at the orphanage and his gang were dead. Harry hid in his room, until he saw a dirty Fenrir caked in mud trod into the room. Glad to have any sort of distraction, he pulled Fenrir into the bathroom," You dirty dog! Let's get you clean shall we?" He whistled happily to himself.

Harry never noticed how Fenrir's teeth were red. He never realized that Fenrir wasn't dirty and caked in mud, but rather, dirty and caked in blood. But it didn't matter in the end. They both found a home in a lovely family called the Weasleys, and lived happily ever after.

Any threat was eradicated and his Harry was forever safe with him.

- _fin, for now-_


	2. Chapter Two

_If only_ he was that naïve. He could've just thought of the Dursleys' death as a blessing from God, who was finally rewarding him for enduring years of torment. But contrary to his hopes, he wasn't. He knew that fateful day, was not the result of an attack of wild animals. That Fenrir had not been caked in mud, but rather dried _blood_. He knew that Fenrir was not all he seemed to be — a mere big dog. He's seen what Fenrir did. He knows he should be afraid. Others are.

Is he?

No.

How could he be when Fenrir was the only one who had cared? Sure, the school teachers occasionally asked him if he was being hit by his relatives when they saw peeks of bruises, but they didn't do anything. _They didn't care enough_.

Fenrir did. He cared so much more for Harry that Harry was sometimes overwhelmed by this unfamiliar, magical feeling of being loved. Fenrir stuck with him. Fenrir comforted him. Fenrir saved him.

 _Fenrir loved him_.

It felt amazing to be able to say it and Harry reveled in his newfound confidence to say that someone did love him.

Harry finally felt happy — an emotion never felt in the Dursleys' residence. This was his first chance at happiness, maybe even his only one.

So he wouldn't let anyone take it away from him.

His treasure is his and only his, he would never risk anyone depriving him of his loving companion.

 **No one**.

 

* * *

When the Weasleys — _kind gentle warmth happy_ — adopted him, they had to keep Fenrir as well. Everyone knew they were a package bundled together after the Dursleys' death. At first they were happy to have a young buoyant child like Harry in addition to their seven children, but soon felt there was... something _different_.

Fenrir always followed Harry. Harry always followed Fenrir. The two made an endearing sight, one that always melted the Weasleys' hearts and made their vows to grant the two happiness even stronger. Up until they saw what Fenrir did.

Harry was a small child. He was eight years old but looked six. Odd he was, always talking to Fenrir as though he truly believed that Fenrir could reply. But everyone dismissed it as his coping mechanism after witnessing the Dursleys' mangled corpses. His quirky nature of always being so carefree about everything was so different from others that he was a common victim of bullying.

Children don't understand how a family's death can affect a child as young as Harry. At least that's what adults said when they see Harry being chased around the neighborhood. They even have the excuse that "boys will be boys" and never stopped the bullies from catching Harry. Maybe they thought Harry deserved it. After all, there were many whispers that he was the Devil's child, with his green poisonous eyes and midnight black hair among the community of colours of red yellow brown hair and blue brown black eyes. The Weasleys were in fact the only family that accepted Harry for who he was. They were the only ones who would intervene and save Harry, just like they did before.

But they couldn't always be there. It was impossible. They had their own lives to live, and as much as they wanted to protect Harry, they couldn't. Not from a lack of trying though it must be said.

 

* * *

 

One time, when the family wasn't home, with the adults at work and the other children at their friends' homes, Harry was left alone with Fenrir in the house. Ever since he was welcomed into the family, he had never been in a house this quiet. He didn't like it. So they went out to the park and Harry swung himself while Fenrir laid next to him napping.

Fenrir's ears twitched but before he could react, Harry was hit on the head with a baseball bat. With how light and small he was, it was a wonder that he merely fell and bled and didn't suffer a concussion. Pierre was still a nasty disgusting little brat, and thought himself to be an avenger of Dudley's death. He knew the filth had something to do with his death so Pierre took it upon himself to always bully Harry. Never before was he so violent though, but it hardly mattered.

Because his violence sent Fenrir's blood levels rising and growls could be heard throughout the park. It emptied out of laughing children as soon as Pierre appeared, and there was total silence. Fenrir's sounds of rage were further enhanced by the echoing, and even the animals and the wind stopped moving. Strangely Pierre couldn't take his eyes away from Harry and on the immediate threat.

Harry struggled slightly to pick himself up, and he lightly touched his bloody head before staring into Pierre's eyes. Pierre felt as though his very soul was laid bare in front of Harry as his breaths became _shorter, louder, softer, lighter._ Sweat beads slid down Pierre's forehead and he didn't dare to blink. In a strange way, he was intimidated by the timid little Harry Potter who always required Fenrir's help to not be attacked all the time.

Pierre stuttered," I'll sic the police on your mutt! They'll deal with him and send him off to the pound! And he'll be brought to the slaughterhouse because no one, _no one_ would want a diseased parasite like him!" He was pretty sure his voice didn't shake or break a lot, and that this threat would be enough to stop the freak from retaliating.

Yet this Harry Potter was different. As the devil incarnate in front of him widened his eyes and smiled cruelly, Pierre thought to himself.

 _Maybe the beast was doing_ _ **us**_ _a favour after all, keep us safe from him_.

It was too late to have such a thought though.

Harry lifted a hand and pointed a finger at Pierre, and whispered nothing yet everything.

**Die**

 

* * *

Sirens rang and people could be heard screaming. Arthur rushed to the park where all the commotion was. He had come home to check up on Harry, but was interrupted by the shrills from the park. With his gut protesting, he ran.

Before he even saw the park, he knew Harry was involved. Why? He heard a howl.

Life sure isn't boring now Harry's around.

Covered in blood, he made an enchanting picture of a fallen angel that was smiling insanely at what looked like a boy. The blonde hair gave it away that it was Pierre though since he was the only one stupid enough to mess with Harry. This time, Arthur bemusedly thought, he got too far.

Fenrir was engrossed in chewing Pierre's intestines, dragging them out to the ground before snacking on them as though they were delightful sausages. Pierre was surprisingly still alive, breathing heavily, gasping for more delicious air. His muscles were spasming with a gaping hole at his side. His eyes were twitching, fingers moving as though trying to ask for help since his lower jaw had already been ripped off. In fact, Harry had his jaw on his head, acting as though it was a bejeweled crown.

The adults were too scared to make a move, because whenever they tried to, Fenrir would swivel his head around to stare at them while growling hungrily. It helped that his muzzle was wet and dripping with the ruby drops of blood and Pierre's guts were stuck in between his teeth.

However the screams alerted the neighbors safe in their houses, so the police soon came to the park armed with anesthetic shots. But they weren't much of a help since Harry just stared at them and smiled and they used their shot guns to shoot themselves in between the eyes. They helped with the revamping of the park though, adding a touch more red to the tainted ground.

Arthur, sensing that Harry was done playing around, called softly," Harry son, let's go home. It's already sunset and our family's going to be worried sick if they don't see your smile when they reach home."

"Daddy?"

His heart warmed, and he hugged the boy running towards him. None of his children needed him like Harry did anymore, so he treasured the chances he still had.

"Daddy! Isn't my new crown pretty? It shines like rubies in the sunlight!"

"It's beautiful my son."

"Daddy, let's get away from this nasty horrible place with its beasts. "

"Anything you want, son. You're the most precious of all."

Blushing, Harry pulled Fenrir along, "Fen! We're going home!" The wolf shook his fur, and trotted to Harry, his tongue hanging out his mouth and his tail wagging happily.

Smiling, they held hands and went home together merrily, Harry's free hand clutching Fenrir's fur, leaving the horridly gory scene behind.

He's definitely a _wondrous_ addition to the family, Arthur reflected adoringly, his beloved wife laying her head on his shoulder. They both looked over their darling children, crowded around Harry, asking for more details about how Pierre died, their eyes glinting in a strange thirst, the light of the fires of the fireplace reflecting their eyes.

 

* * *

The Weasleys soon moved to the United States after accepting an offer to stay at their cousins', the Addams' house.

They even encouraged Harry to further express himself with the spilt blood of others, and led a peaceful life full of venomous arachnids, carnivorous plants, disembodied hands and torture.

All was well.

_-Fin-_


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Harry wonders if he's crazy, then sometimes he knows he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: GORE, AU, insanity all around, depravity, madness, Dark.

Draco stared at his hand - or what was left of it - in horrified shock. He shook like a leaf in a tornado, and his eyes darted from his "hand" to the duo, and he _screamed_.

Harry just stared with a shine in his eyes, mouth slightly agape as though in awe. Fenrir just laid down on the floor, crossed his paws, and closed his eyes, snout on resting on his paws. Though he did open one to stare at the blonde banshee to see his reaction. Licking his lips with a long bloody red tongue, dark amusement was evident in Fenrir's dark eyes.

The Great Hall that had been roaring with children's laughter and loud chatter, with the tinkling of the silverware and glass, was silenced by the scream. Then, once another shrill scream joined in, chaos ensued. There was panic, screaming, crying everywhere. One did not have to try particularly hard to hear the pathetic sounds of retching.

The scene of crying children, in the Hall that was brightly decorated for a grand banquet with the colours of all four houses, was so tragic.

It was dreadful. So dreadfully _beautiful_.

Caramel eyes glowed an eerie orange in the light of the dimmed candles of the Great Hall, the light reflecting off sharp teeth and fiery red hair. They stared at the wet raw muscles of the shredded stump of an arm, glossy with the viscous liquid that continuously pumped furiously along to the rapid heartbeat in that pale chest, the bone a striking bright white against the dark scarlet blood pouring out. The scent of the blood, of the pain, of the d e s p a i r, it all went into their heads, their eyes rolling back from the thick pungent scent. It was almost tangible, dancing across their tastebuds, inducing saliva to flood their mouths.

Percy was dealing with it the worst; he was always trying to suppress his dark side the most, and now, he was reaping the consequences. He was trembling so hard his seat vibrated, his face planted on the dining table, his cheek grazing against the vinyl wood, his eyes glued on to the trio in front of him, filled with depravity. Irises were blown up so wide, only a thin line of orange visible from all the black, only adding to the disturbing image.

It wasn't as though his reaction was something his family didn't understand, on the contrary, they knew very well. Harry had this knack of letting his magic leak whenever this sort of wonders happened, and his magic was so gentle yet turbulent, Light yet Dark, innocent yet sensual. It was _addicting_. All the Weasleys had felt a hint of it years ago when Harry had been retelling the incident with Piers Polkiss, and even then they had been reacting almost the same way with just that tiny little leak of magic as he spoke intensely, unused to the experience. Mr Weasley had felt a saturated shot at his heart that almost made him giddy, when he had been at the scene, trying to get Harry home that day. His magic was so potent and wide-ranged, it was how the Weasleys had even known where to find him, and here they were today. _A family._

Percy had been the only one with enough self-control, or even desire, to curb the reactions the magic invoked in him, and the bloodlust in his blood. He preferred to indulge in it only once in a while, so that each time remained as wondrous as before, or even more. The others just let it wash over them, though there had been the initial thought of protecting the younger ones from an overdose, it was quickly abandoned because it was too beautiful an experience to miss. It might be the only chance they would even feel such compatibility of magic, melding together.

While the other Weasleys swarmed around Percy (wouldn't the two oldest and the youngest of them be so jealous) in an attempt to relieve him whilst suppressing their own lust, the young boy and his beloved friend continued to stare at the now violently shivering and vomiting blonde, and the professors held tight to their self-control. Or at least some of them tried to, the same could not be said for the Astronomy, Muggle Studies and Herbology Professors, who fainted at the gory scene. But when they saw Fenrir striding to Draco's side, picking up the hand with its veins and arteries and strings of tendons hanging out, and promptly lost some, if not majority of their sanity, when Harry just squealed in delight, hugging and petting the animal for his gift to him.

Professor McGonagall turned ashen white, her lips disappearing into a pinched line. The half-Goblin stood strong, staying true to his title as a Dueling Champion, although there was some colour lost in his face. Professor Snape fared the same as his short colleague; his eyes dug holes into the Boy Who Lived, face a pallor a tad paler than usual, no other signs giving away his surprise and discomfort. But his eyes _burned_ as he watched hot tears fall down Draco's cheeks wildly, his knuckles white as he grabbed the edge of the professors' table tightly. As Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore of course remained calm and composed, though the sparkle in his eyes were extinguished, a deep seated disappointment evident in the cornflower blue, though who exactly he was disappointed in was unclear. Those reactions were what many would expect, but there was someone who was surprisingly, very confusingly, quite unmoved by the entire spectacle. Professor Trelawney, with her wide bug-like eyes and round glasses, just watched on and observed the entire events unravel quietly, with the odd whimper escaping her throat. Her eyes were unusually clear and sharp, making one wonder if the shock cleared her head of the fumes she habitually breathed in in her classroom.

Majority of the students didn't have enough of their wits around themselves to notice anything other than the panic. But there were a few exceptions at the four House Tables: the Weasleys at Gryffindor's, Ermest Macmillan at Hufflepuff's, Terry Boot at Ravenclaw's, and finally, Blaise Zabini at Slytherin's. They all displayed a certain sense of calmness and, especially in the Lions' case, certain indulgence in the pulsating atmosphere. Harry didn't care about anyone's reactions, except for his dear dear family. Only the Weasleys, Harry's heart family, were worth any notice at this point of time. He didn't care at all what was going around him, he was just happy that even in Hogwarts, Fenrir stayed by his side as his protector.

In his bubbly state, he gave little thought to what would happen next. In fact, nothing could happen to him. He was the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, the small boy that the pathetic Wizarding Britain needed a a symbol of their supposed guardian angel who would save them from any harm. If word went out that their little Saviour was capable of such "Darkness", Wizarding Britain would plunge into a despair so wonderful Harry almost wished it happened. Why shouldn't they, for letting him feel that same soul-breaking despair for years with the people he abhorred? So he started with Draco first, to teach the world a lesson about what he would do to anyone who dared to insult his family. Then, they would know better. If only this incident would be published to the world, then it would be perfect.

Sadly, Dumbledore wouldn't allow that to happen. Everything was for a greater good — so he let Harry have his fun with other people, sacrificing that small amount of victims so Wizarding Britain could still operate. Nothing was ever leaked out, so Harry could do whatever he wanted in Hogwarts. How fun was that?

Giggling, Harry took the detached pale hand with its pink nails and bloodied skin, and showed it proudly to his siblings. "Look! I have a Thing, just like cousin Addams! Isn't it gorgeous?" As his family smiled at him fondly, with a bit of restrain and blown up pupils, Harry could hear the sobbing behind him quieten as Draco went into shock. Once he walked over to his family with his loyal friend beside him with his very own Thing on his shoulder, he could hear the rustling of robes and clinking of potion vials. With a smile, he imagined the possibilities of what could happen. He couldn't wait for the school year to continue. This was going to be his new funhouse.


End file.
